When Duo Gets Bored
by Mieren
Summary: Duo's bored... Need I say more? Fair warning, some of the pranks may eventually get bad.
1. When Duo Gets Bored

When Duo Gets Bored

Duo flopped into a spare seat in the oversized living room in one of Quatre's many mansions.  He sighed noisily and began poking around, his manic grin appearing when he found the remote to the television.  He began flipping through the channels with abandon, his smile slowly slipping.  Hissing in annoyance, he turned off the television, having already exhausted all four hundred twenty seven channels without finding anything of interest.

Growling, he let his gaze wander.  Quatre had already chased him out of the kitchen with a skillet.  He had almost been clipped with the heavy metal cooking utensil when the small blond had thrown it.  Hell, he had only been trying to taste what he was working on.  He hadn't actually hurt anything.  That soufflé thing couldn't possibly have been hurt by him poking it with one finger.  He scrubbed one hand through his bangs, frowning at how close he had come to having a skillet shaped dent in the back of his skull.  No point trying that again.

Wufei had already beaten the living shit out of him.  Well, so much for bothering the Chinese pilot.  He just wasn't any fun when he was working on his Gundam.  Duo had thought that the super soaker had been a great idea.  It had to be hot outside, right?  There had been no need to react like that.  He had only splashed one circuit board.  No reason for the Chinese pilot to get his boxers in a wad.

The answer came to him so suddenly, he jumped out of his seat in joy.  Trowa!  He scuttled through the house purposefully, scowling in irritation when he saw that the brunette was in the kitchen, absently chatting with Quatre as the blond stared in dejection at something he had just pulled out of the oven.  That soufflé thing again.  Suddenly, Duo got a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach and he slunk out of the kitchen before they spotted him.  He was sure that something was wrong with that thing, and for some reason they would try to blame him for it.

He sighed again.  He had already tried to distract Heero from typing his latest mission report.  No luck there.  One 'omae o korosu' was all he needed to run for his life.  Normally it would have taken two or three death threats, but the tone in his voice promised exquisite pain if he didn't leave and shut up immediately.

"I'm bored," he wailed, flopping against the nearest wall.

There had to be _something_ to do in this house.  An evil grin alit on his cherubic features and he verily skipped down the hall to his room.  Heero really was going to kill him for this, but it would be worth it.  He made his final preparations and circled the house one last time to make sure he knew where everyone was.  Their locations made him grin wider.  They were all in the kitchen.  Oh, this was going to be too much fun.

*     *     *

Duo hesitated just outside of Heero's room, wrapping his sheet tighter around himself.  This would be the hardest part of his stunt.  He took a steadying breath and sauntered inside the room without knocking.  Years spent as a thief would surely grant him the speed and dexterity he needed to pull this off.  Sure, Heero would kill him later, but for now, the game was his.

He sauntered across the room, mindful to leave the door open.  He wouldn't need that in his way while running for his life.  He whistled some vacant song to irritate Heero further as he neared.  The Japanese pilot ignored him, as usual.  Grinning manically, he stood directly behind the stronger boy's chair and draped himself unashamedly across the typing figure.

"Whacha doin'?" he asked loudly, carefully aiming the full volume of his voice directly into Heero's ear.  As expected, the Japanese pilot stiffened.

"Duo, omae o korosu."

_So far, so good_, Duo mused.

With the speed he had acquired on the streets of L2, he slipped his hands forward and snapped a pair of handcuffs on his friend's wrists.  Knowing he had exactly one second before his neck was being wrung by said cuffed hands, he jerked back and used the whole of his strength to wrap his hands around the material of Heero's tank top and rip the garment in two, flinging the shredded cloth to the sides.  To give himself a necessary advantage of speed, his final act of mayhem was to grab the back of the shocked boy's spandex shorts and jerk his hand upwards, creating the most vicious wedgie he had ever seen, and he had administered quite a few in his day.  He noted wryly that Heero didn't wear underwear even as he shot for the door at roughly mach two.

"OMAE O KOROSU!!!"

_And here he comes_, Duo thought wryly, even as he put on more speed.  Even handcuffed and tripping around a wedgie from hell, Heero was still more than a match for him in speed.  And at the moment, he appeared to be gaining on him.  _Now for the finishing touches._

"Iiiiiiiiiiiyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!"

Laughing softly to himself at the swearing and continued death threats coming from behind him, he darted around a few more corners and down a hall that seemed to stretch forever.  At the last moment before furious hands of death fastened around his throat, he burst into the kitchen.

Three sets of eyes immediately snapped up to greet his arrival, the other pilots already at attention from his screamed refusal only seconds ago.  He clung the sheet tighter to himself as he scrambled for the far side of the table, just waiting for Heero to do himself in.  Sure enough, the furious pilot was only inches behind him and reached out with cuffed hands to grab the only thing within reach.  The sheet wrapped around Duo went flying, leaving the braided pilot only his new getup as he scrambled away from a temporarily stunned Heero.  The results were better than he expected.

Quatre turned so red that it was a wonder his face didn't ignite his hair.  Trowa paled at the same instant twin streams of blood spurted from his nose.  Wufei's mouth popped open in shock, his eyes rolled back and he fainted.

Wearing nothing more than a leather thong, nipple clamps and a bit of body paint to give the impression of spanking and whip marks, he scurried back out of the kitchen.  He could almost see their shocked looks, from those that were conscious anyways, settle on Heero, the handcuffs he was wearing and the shirt he wasn't.  The looks on his friends' faces nearly made him want to turn back, but he knew he couldn't risk it.  Heero was bound to recover from his shock any moment now and when he did…

"OMAE O KOROSU!!!"

Yup.  There it was.  Duo scrambled for the door and away from the mansion into the hiking trail on the acreage out back.  He had placed a change of clothes and a few days worth of food in a duffle bag and he knew perfectly well he was going to need it.


	2. The Perfect Soldier's Perfect Revenge

The Perfect Soldier's Perfect Revenge

Sequel to 'When Duo Gets Bored'

By Mieren

After hiding out for three days, Duo decided that it was finally safe to return to Quatre's mansion.  He had seen Trowa and Quatre disappear in their Gundams the previous day, so he wouldn't have to contend with them.  Though to be fair, he wasn't worried about what they would do.  He already knew that at the very worst, he would have to hear an hour-long ranting, raving, screaming, foaming fit from Wufei about his dishonorable actions.  As boring as that would be, he wasn't overly concerned.  It was actually kind of amusing to watch the Chinese pilot turn red in the face when he got hyped up on one of his rants.  It was a certain stone-faced, spandex-wearing, I-can-bend-steel-with-my-bare-hands-so-your-neck-doesn't-stand-a-chance roommate that scared him.

Duo snorted.  He was being ridiculous.  After all, how long could Heero hold a grudge for a simple joke?  The manic grin on his face faded.  Oh, he knew how long Heero could hold a grudge, all right.  It had taken over two months for the pilot to calm down enough to forgive Duo for the last prank.

"I swear, you paint a guy's Gundam bright pink and you never hear the end of it," he groused, eyeing the back door warily.  "He only had to go into one battle with it like that before he had the time to repaint it.  You'd think I'd sent Oz fabricated pictures of him in women's lingerie or something.  Oh, wait.  I did that to Wufei last week.  I wonder if he found out yet."

To be fair about that last prank, he had constructed a few pictures of Treize and Zechs in the same type of clothing and sent it to Wufei.  The resulting swearing, nosebleeds, and rants about injustice and dishonor had been well worth his efforts.  What was even funnier, in his opinion, was that after hacking a few Oz channels, he had found said pictures of Wufei on Treize's personal computer.  Then, just to cause problems, he sent a few more pictures of Treize to Zechs from the general's e-mail address and a few of Zechs to Treize from the blonde's.  Oh, but there would be some questions over that, he was certain.  The joys of owning a computer.

The thought of computers erased his smile again.  He still had to face a certain computer-hacking geek back inside.  A very unhappy geek.  Sighing again, he slunk in the back door and made his way toward the bathroom.  After spending a few days outside, he absolutely reeked and wanted a shower.  Dirt and leaves were ground into his braid and it was driving him insane.  If not for that little fact, he might have stayed away for a little while longer rather than risk coming back in.  He would have loved to stay at a hotel, except for the slight problem that Heero would be able to find him in three seconds flat had he done that.

He made a quick pass through the kitchen for a bite to eat.  Throwing together a quick sandwich, he was about to vacate the area when something caught his eye.  On the kitchen counter was a massive book.  The illustrations on the cover clearly proved that it could not be a cookbook of any sort.  The title made him snort.

"The Kama Sutra, huh?" he chuckled.  "I don't know where it came from, but I'll be damned if it's not going to end up in Wufei's room."

Even as he said it, he stuffed the sandwich in his mouth and grabbed the book.  The mere thought of the nosebleed Wufei was going to suffer from this nearly made him choke on his food.  Grinning widely, he scurried down the hall to the Chinese pilot's room and flipped the book open to a rather graphic page before retreating the way he had come.  He had been lucky so far not to run into anyone, but he knew his luck wouldn't hold forever.

Peeking around a corner, he bolted the last little ways to the bathroom, nearly giving the maid cleaning it a heart attack when he thundered in and skidded to a halt just before running into her.  Grinning ruefully, he apologized and proceeded to shoo her out of the bathroom so he could shower.  It was nothing personal, but he absolutely had to get his hair clean if he wanted to keep his sanity.  Or what was left of it, anyways.

Taking extra care to scrub all of the twigs, leaves and junk out of his hair, Duo actually had to pause to wonder if he had gone too far this time.  Sure, he played many, many pranks on his friends, but he had never before seen Heero turn quite that color.  As amusing as it had been at the time, he was beginning to wonder just how mad Heero really was, something that absolutely needed to know for the sake of his health.  The hour-long process of washing his knee-length hair gave him time to think, as well as avoid the danger he knew was stalking around the house somewhere.

After he was absolutely sure that his hair was clean, he quickly scrubbed the rest of himself clean and hopped out of the shower.  The hot water was almost gone anyways.  Wrapping one towel around his waist, he began scrubbing his head with a second, grinning happily when he noticed that the maid had been kind enough to manage to sneak in a clean change of clothes for him.  He started to get dressed before noticing that she hadn't brought him a change of boxers.  Frowning, he pulled on his pants anyways, being extra careful with the zipper.  He'd go hunting for a pair of his black boxers once he had his hair out of the way.

Rooting around on the countertop, he snagged a handy hairbrush and began the long, grueling process of untangling his hair so he could get it into his customary braid.  He snooped through the things littering the counter as he worked, frowning when he didn't see anything interesting.  Toothpaste, Wufei's hair bands, lotion, a comb, eye drops, bandages, an unmarked tube, Trowa's hair gel…  Wait a minute.  An unmarked tube?  Frowning slightly, he finished winding his hair into a serviceable braid and peeked closer at the small silvery tube.

"The hell?" he muttered, turning it over in his fingers a few times.  It was about the size of a tube of ointment, but it most certainly wasn't that.  No matter how long he stared at it, he couldn't seem to figure out what it was.  Shrugging, he tossed it back on the counter and resumed his quest for his elusive undergarments.

He made his way to his room on the far end of the mansion before coming to the realization that this path would take him directly by Heero's room.  Frowning, he continued on his course.  He could probably slip by unnoticed by the Perfect Soldier.  Despite popular belief, he could be very quiet when he wanted to slink around undetected.  He wasn't a Gundam pilot for nothing, after all.

He ghosted by the open door, glancing in as he passed.  Blinking, he pulled to a halt and backtracked.  It wasn't a surprise that Heero wasn't in his room.  It was a surprise, however, to find a pair of his black boxers on Heero's bed.  He scratched his head idly before it clicked.

"So, he's trying to catch me with my own trick, is he?" he chuckled.

Last month, while Heero was still not speaking to him for the whole pink Gundam stunt, Duo had coated his spandex with itching powder just before a mission.  Duo had gotten a good laugh at the nervous wreck Heero had been when he had returned, hair sticking up in all directions and a nervous tick holding steady in one eye.  He had laughed until Heero had beaten him into the ground, after changing shorts, of course.  To say that Heero hadn't been pleased had been the understatement of the century.

Remembering to watch out for any suspicious undergarments, he continued his way down the hall.  He shook his head.  Oh, Heero was going to pay for even thinking of retaliating.  Duo held a monopoly on the pranks in the group, and no one was going to oust him without the fight of their life.

Peeking into his room to check for both traps and irate pilots, he slipped in once seeing that the area was still safe.  He knew that Trowa and Quatre wouldn't do anything to him past a bit of yelling, glaring, and in Quatre's case, glaring.  He wouldn't put it past Wufei, however, to lie in wait to pound his sorry butt into the ground, especially if he had discovered the pictures of him Oz had in their possession.  Heero, on the other hand, wouldn't do something so blatantly obvious.  No, the Perfect Soldier couldn't just throttle him and be done with it.  He would bide his time and do something truly horrendous.

Still wary, he began a quick search for traps.  He didn't actually believe that Heero would stoop so low as to dig a pitfall in his room like he had done to the pilot of Wing Zero three safehouses ago, but he still wanted to be careful.  After Heero had pulled himself out of the fifteen-foot hole, he had been as pissed as he was dusty.  Duo grinned at the memory of the look of eye-twitching rage that had been on the Japanese boy's face.  He berated himself for even checking for that type of trap.  This was one of Quatre's mansions.  If Heero had done such a thing, Quatre would have been furious.

Seeing his room empty of vengeful pilots, he sauntered in on his quest for undergarments.  The sensation of being free and loose was interesting, to say the least.  He honestly didn't know how Wufei put up with it.  A snort escaped his lips at how he had learned that particular detail about his friend's dressing habits.  One fateful day at a small family-owned restaurant, he had for some reason decided to casually remove the tie holding the Chinese pilots pants up without the other's knowledge.  When he stood up to pay the bill, Duo had almost choked on his own tongue at the discovery before running for his life.  Wufei had not been amused.

Shaking his head at the memory, he made his way across a floor littered with dirty laundry and explicit manga to his dresser.  Mindful of traps, he gingerly pulled a drawer open, grinning happily when he saw that it wasn't rigged to explode.  He grabbed the first pair of boxers he saw and started to undo his belt when his gaze roved across the top of his dresser.  Amid endless knickknacks and various hair care products, he spotted another unmarked tube, identical to the one he had seen in the bathroom.  Baffled, he scratched his head, underwear forgotten for a moment as he tried to puzzle it out.  He wasn't sharing a room with anybody in the mansion since Quatre had more than enough rooms to go around.  It certainly wasn't his.  He glanced at the disaster area that was his room and knew that the maids hadn't set foot in the area from the lack of visible floor.

Shrugging and tossing the tube back onto the dresser, he resumed shucking his pants.  He had just freed his belt when someone tackled him roughly from behind, landing heavily on him and pinning him to the bed.  Squawking indignantly, he began squirming viciously to see which irate pilot was his attacker, though he was pretty sure he already knew.  Wufei usually didn't attack people from behind.  Sure enough, when he finally managed to crane his neck around at a painful angle, he saw Heero pinning him with one of the most furious expressions he had ever seen on the Japanese pilot.  He quickly found both of his arms pulled behind him and held there.

"Hi, Hee-chan!" he greeted, grinning unabashedly and still squirming for all he was worth.  With the look on his friend's face, he knew he was going to come away from this with more than a few bruises.

Heero only growled in reply and pinned him tighter to the bed, transferring both of Duo's wrists to one hand.  Duo could vaguely see the other arm in his peripheral vision moving and flinched, certain he was about to be decked.  After a moment, he cracked one eye open, amazed that the blow hadn't landed.   Heero was staring at him with a tight expression, gripping something forcefully in his free hand.  Duo recognized the silver cap showing from his fist as the unmarked tube that had been on his dresser.  The grin faded from Duo's face, replaced with apprehension.

"Um, Heero?" he started gingerly.

"Why?" Heero asked in a clipped monotone.

Duo stared at him in incomprehension for a moment before answering.  He had thought that it was perfectly obvious why he had done what he had.

"It was a joke," he said, trailing off at the frosty glare the statement earned him.  For several moments, Heero remained silent.

"A joke," Heero repeated softly, dangerously.  "You shouldn't joke like that."

Duo paused, trying to reason out what exactly the Japanese boy was talking about.  He already knew that neither Heero nor Wufei liked to be teased constantly, but that had never deterred him.  Heero's tone of voice, however, gave him pause.  He sounded almost strained.  Hesitant.  Duo wilted slightly, trying to think of something.  Heero continued before he managed to say anything.

"Do you have any idea what went through my head when I saw you dressed like that?  Do you, Duo?"

For the first time in his life, Duo was at a loss for words.  Every word Heero uttered sounded slightly more frantic than the last.  Duo could hear him panting softly and feel the tremors running through his slender frame.  Heero growled suddenly and dropped the tube in his free hand, slipping his arm under Duo's waist and forcing him onto his knees, face still pressed against the bed.

"You shouldn't tease me, Duo," Heero hissed, yanking Duo back towards himself roughly.

Duo's spine snapped rigid when he felt a something thick and hard pressing against him, his eyes going so wide they threatened to pop out of his head.  That couldn't be what he thought it was pressed against him.  His eyes flickered to the small tube on the bed beside him, understanding registering in his mind.  He shifted his head slightly to look over his shoulder.

"H-Heero?"

"You brought this on yourself," Heero snapped.  He dropped his hold around Duo's waist, his fingers attacking the clasp to Duo's black slacks.

Shock forgotten, Duo lurched against the hand holding his wrists between his shoulders.  His arms shrieked in agony at the misuse, but he continued to fight, writhing and kicking like a madman.  Heero had obviously expected him to fight back, so he had intentionally positioned himself to be inaccessible to Duo's wild kicks.  Their struggle was interrupted by a furious howl.

"Maxwell!!!"

Duo's head snapped up hopefully at the sound of Wufei's angry roar just outside his door.  An incensed Chinese pilot stormed into the room, waving the Kama Sutra around furiously, his face flushed from embarrassment and rage.  Heero scowled at him as he came into the room.

"What do you want, Chang?"

Wufei paused, blinking at them.  He scowled darkly a moment later.

"Don't leave your book lying around where Maxwell can find it again, Yuy," he snapped, throwing the book onto the bed near Duo's head.  He eyed them both angrily one last time before turning to leave.

"Wait!" Duo cried out, horrified that Wufei would just walk off and leave him.

"It's about time you taught that loudmouth baka some manners," Wufei called stiffly over his shoulder, pausing only to slam the door behind him.

Tears stung Duo's eyes.  He knew Wufei didn't like him that much, but he never expected him to allow someone to rape him.  He didn't get a chance to wallow in self-pity for long, Heero insistently fighting to get his pants off.  Feeling betrayed, he bucked with enough force to raise them both off of the bed a few inches.  In midair, he twisted within Heero's grasp and tried to flip him off, succeeding only in throwing them both to the floor.

The two landed in a tangle of limbs.  Above the cursing and sounds of scuffling, a snap was clearly heard echoing through the room.  Duo froze, eyes wide.  With the pain radiating through both arms from the odd angle Heero still held them at, he couldn't be sure that the sound hadn't been one of his arms breaking.  He noticed distantly that Heero had paused too, his grip loosening.  After a moment, he released his hold altogether and sat back with a funny look on his face.

Once freed, Duo immediately scrambled away from Heero and started to bolt from the room when he noticed Heero staring curiously at the front of his spandex.  Unbidden, Duo's eyes flickered down to the bulge in the front of his spandex.  His jaw dropped when he registered the ninety-degree angle to the bulge.  Heero only huffed angrily.

"Damn.  Broke it," he muttered.

Duo was torn between pity and grim humor.  The mere thought of such an injury made him cringe, but at the same time, he was relieved that he was safe.  Heero's words slowly began to register in his mind.  They were too calm.  No matter how resistant to pain the Perfect Soldier was, he couldn't possibly ignore something like that, could he?

"Either way, don't bother me again with your stupid jokes," Heero said calmly, standing up and heading for the door.  Duo scrambled out of his way, eyes wide.

Heero paused just before leaving the room and reached down the front of his spandex.  Duo flinched in advance, having seen him set his own broken bones before.  Surely he wouldn't…

Heero pulled his hand back and tossed what he held towards Duo, who lurched backwards frantically to evade it.  His eyes followed its path exactly, registering what it was only after it had hit the floor.  Duo's jaw dropped.  A cucumber, snapped cleanly in half, rested on the floor in front of him.  Violet eyes narrowed angrily.  He had been scared out of his mind by a cucumber??

"Oh and Duo," Heero called over his shoulder.  "One more thing.  Leave the practical jokes to the pros."  Grinning, he was forced to duck out of the room just before a cucumber crashed into the back of his skull.

END

There you have it, people.  You bugged me for a sequel, so this is entirely your fault.  But still, feel free to R&R.


	3. Enter the Dragon

Enter the Dragon

By Mieren

Duo was pouting.  It was bad enough that Heero had gotten the better of him, but he simply couldn't stand for the fact that Wufei had as well.  The Chinese pilot had known what was going on and had played along just long enough for Duo to become truly worried.

He briefly considered doing something to Heero as well, but changed his mind.  He willingly admitted that he had deserved what he had gotten from the stoic Japanese pilot.  Growling low in his throat, he began plotting against a certain raven-haired teen.

Huffing indignantly, he began rooting through his Wufei-will-be-out-for-blood-if-he-even-thought-about-it stash.  He quickly moved past the Playboys and Playgirls.  As much fun as it was to watch the Chinese pilot nosebleed, he deserved much worse this time.  For the same reason, he set aside the lacy panties and the Kama Sutra.  The stink bombs were too timid.  He briefly considered the neon green hair dye, but decided against that too.  The paint would have been a nice thing to play with, but he had painted Shenlong pink a month ago.  He needed something new.  He considered sending love letters in Wufei's name to the Maguanacs, but decided he could do better.

An unholy grin settled across his face.  Whipping out a notepad, he began scribbling some rough notes.  Wufei would pay.  Oh yes, would he pay.

*     *     *

Treize entered his private suite, exhausted from a day of listening to officers argue about strategies on various methods to rid themselves of the Gundam pilots.  He tossed his jacket over the back of an ornate chair near his computer.  Something stood out against the keyboard.  Something that hadn't been there when he had left earlier in the day.

Nestled between the keys was a plain white envelope.  No writing was visible on the surface.  He stared at it curiously, wondering if it was possibly a letter bomb.  Deciding against it, he plucked the envelope off of the keyboard and pulled out a letter written in flowing cursive, the delicate paper smelling lightly of incense.  He frowned slightly at the message.

_I cannot wait to meet with you again.  I look forward our next encounter._

Treize read and reread the two simple sentences several times, a frown pulling at the edges of his mouth.  There was no signature attached.  Sighing, he tossed the letter into a random drawer at the desk, deciding that he would think about it later.  For now, all he wanted was to take a shower and get some sleep.

*     *     *

The next day, Treize received another envelope.  This time, it was lying on his bed.  Now immensely curious, he snagged the letter and quickly scanned the single line, cursing when there was still no signature forthcoming.

_I grow impatient with the delay, but I shall see you soon._

Grumbling, he placed the letter beside the first, confused by both the cryptic messages and the unique smell of incense on both of the short notes.

*     *     *

For eight days now, Treize had gotten a letter.  The most recent one, while longer than the others, had him grinding his teeth.

_I cannot delay this any longer.  I must meet you again before I lose my mind.  Meet me alone in the gardens tomorrow at dusk._

Growling, Treize flopped back in the elaborately carved chair by his desk.  Whoever was sending the letters knew him, but he didn't recognize the handwriting.  Nor did he recognize the expensive and exotic incense that tinged the letters.  After much debate, he had decided that they were love letters, but was unable to decipher who could possibly be sending them.  He was still stumped as to who was able to get into his room every single day, the security cameras expertly dismantled every time.

Deciding that he had had enough, he began making a few calls.  Tomorrow, he would learn who the mystery writer was and he intended to be ready.

*     *     *

Wufei stomped into his room at the safehouse, almost purple in his rage.  It was bad enough that he had to work alongside Maxwell and listen to his inane chatter, but he could not tolerate the braided idiot any longer.  The moron had somehow managed to release a thousand white mice into Nataku's cockpit.  The smell of rodent feces still clung to his previously immaculate clothes and formerly spotless Gundam.  Injustice!

He had been ranting to himself for almost an hour before he noticed an envelope tied to his family sword with a simple red ribbon.  Outraged that someone had dared to touch his sword, he ripped the letter free and scanned it with seething obsidian eyes.  His fury was momentarily quelled by the scent of roses wafting from the paper and the ornate calligraphy covering the scented paper.

_Wufei,_

_Meet me tomorrow at dusk to conclude our duel.  I will be awaiting your arrival in the gardens at the Tokyo base._

_Khushrenada._

Wufei's eyes narrowed at the challenge.  He was so caught up in his notion of honorably finishing the duel and then murdering Maxwell for his prank that he didn't stop to consider how the note had been delivered to the safehouse.

*     *     *

Treize leaned back comfortably on the elegant wooden bench, elaborately carved with roses, he had ordered brought to the gardens.  Beside him was a small tray created by caterers and a cooler holding a bottle of expensive wine and two crystal goblets.  Slightly nervous, and feeling like a lovesick teenager for doing so, he fiddled with his clothes, straightening the fine garb nervously.  He glanced around, frowning slightly.  It was dusk, but there was no sign of the person he was supposed to meet.

"I am here to honorably meet your challenge," a calm, collected voice announced.  "Draw your sword and face me like a man."

Shocked, Treize glanced up to meet the furious gaze of an incensed Chinese warrior.  Arching his elegant eyebrows, he stood fluently and offered a slight bow in silent greeting.

"I apologize, young dragon, but I do not have my sword with me this evening.  I was not anticipating your presence," he said smoothly.

"Then what is the meaning of this?" Wufei snapped, brandishing a letter under Treize's nose.  Bemused by the irate youth, Treize took the letter and skimmed it.

"I must apologize once again, young dragon.  This is certainly my style of writing, but I do not recall composing such a note."

Wufei blinked, then scowled.  "Who else would have written it?" he demanded.

"I do not know, young dragon," Treize answered, smiling slightly.  "Perchance, would you know who wrote these?"  He silently offered a small stack of letters to the irritated teen.

Snatching the stack of letters, Wufei scanned the content impatiently.  A scowl settled on his angular features.

"This is my handwriting, but I did not write this," he snapped.  His eyes narrowed.  "So we were set up.  Now what?"

Treize just smiled.

*     *     *

Duo was visibly squirming in his seat as he waited for Wufei's return.  His fidgeting was part anticipation and part worry.  Though he was eager to see the Chinese pilot's irritation, he was distinctly worried that the other pilot was so late to return.  He was starting to wonder if something had happened to his friend.  It was almost dawn and the raven-haired boy still hadn't returned.

Before he had a chance to feel too guilty, the door to the safehouse opened, admitting a staggering, and slightly hungover, Wufei.  The Chinese pilot was clearly in some sort of stupor.  His onyx hair was falling everywhere, the band normally tying the dark locks back strangely missing.  His normally immaculate clothes were disheveled, his shirt inside out.  Dark glazed eyes stared straight ahead, completely unfocused.  What worried Duo most were the vivid bruises around his comrade's throat.  His brow furrowed slightly.  Where those _hickies?_

"Um… Wufei?" Duo asked tentatively.

"Yes?" Wufei asked sleepily, pausing in his weary trudge towards his room.

"How did your duel go?" he asked, trying not to sound too guilty.

"Duel?  Oh, yes, the duel.  Treize came out on top," he murmured, continuing his unsteady path towards his own room.

Duo's jaw dropped.  A full-body twitch enveloped him.  He zombied his way back to his room, swearing that he would _never_ pull a prank on Wufei and Treize again.  He couldn't help it.  He shuddered again.

"Nasty… old person," he moaned.  Somehow he knew that he would be mentally scarred for life.  Still twitching, he headed for his room to go to bed, even though he knew he wouldn't be sleeping.

End.  Seriously this time.

I am SO sorry.  It was 3am and I got bored.  It just kind of happened.  Please don't hate me!  R&R!!!

Fic challenge!  For anyone who read this and loves yaoi.  I want you to write the lemon between Wufei and Treize after their little meeting in the gardens.  Send it to me via email.  If you're already posting on ff.net, tell me so I can tell my faithful followers where to go to see the yumminess.  If not, I'll post it here and give you full credit.  Come on, someone take me up on this!!!  ^__^


	4. The Dragon's Sword

The Dragon's Sword

By Mieren

Quatre stood in one of the horridly long lines at the public airport.  Winner Enterprises was holding a meeting that he, as the only male heir to the family, had to attend.  His personal aircraft was busy carting around parts for the Gundams, making it unavailable.  He glanced at his watch again, frowning darkly.  Almost an hour had passed and he had only moved three feet forward in a line that wrapped around the terminal twice.

The line was bad enough, but he could have endured it if not for the pesky reporters trying to pry information out of him.  He didn't even know what they wanted, refusing to listen to the screeching vultures.  If not for one single thing, he would have already have ripped his hair out, woven it into a noose and hung the gibbering imbeciles.  That one thing was the person standing beside him, dressed as one of his servants.

Trowa plucked nervously at the formal clothes he was in, casting a sympathetic glance at the smaller blond.  He had only agreed to go on grounds that Quatre might need a bodyguard during the meeting.  They suspected that a few members of Oz knew about his occupation as a pilot, and as such, they didn't want to take any risks.

After another hour of ignoring the spastic weenies with cameras, they managed to check in their luggage and claim the tickets for the flight.  Desperate to be away from the mindless lemmings still begging for information, and royally pissing off security, they jogged quickly towards the gate their flight left from, each of them carrying a small business briefcase with them.

Luckily, the line going through the metal detector moved much faster.  Quickly placing the two briefcases on the conveyer belt, they scurried through the small doorway, glad to be rid of the swarm of leeches.  Or so they thought.

Both briefcases were jerked off of the belt immediately after being x-rayed.  Quatre gaped as he was told by a wary guard to open the cases.  Confused as to what was going on, he and Trowa complied.  The guards yanked something out of the blonde's briefcase, staring hard at the object wrapped in tinfoil.  Cautiously, one of the men unwrapped it.  He blinked, holding the item gingerly in two fingers well away from himself.  A vibrator.  A _large_ one.  A second guard pulled a pair of silk-lined handcuffs out of Trowa's briefcase.

Quatre was helpless to do anything but turn redder with each passing second as the reporters chattered rapidly, snapping pictures like there was no tomorrow.  Even Trowa was blushing, something that Quatre had never seen.  Frosty emerald eyes narrowed furiously as the banged boy growled a single word.

"Duo."

*     *     *

Duo was puttering around Quatre's mansion, wondering absently how there could be absolutely nothing to do.

Four hundred twenty seven channels on the television and nothing worth watching.  Quatre and Trowa were on some sort of business trip, scheduled to return later that day.  Wufei was polishing his sword, a strange half-smirk on his face.  Duo shuddered when his mind tried to provide a reason for the expression.  Twitching, he moved on.  Heero was camped out in his room, doing whatever it was he did on his laptop.  Duo suspected that he was looking at porn online, but he couldn't prove it.  Oh, he was fairly sure, and had been ever since he changed the stoic pilot's homepage to some porn website and the other boy had never said a word about it.

He sighed loudly, openly pouting.  Three full kitchens, and there was nothing to eat either.  Frowning, he wandered off to poke through his manga yet again.  He would have given anything for something interesting to happen.

*     *     *

Wufei sat polishing his sword calmly, still smiling to himself.  His room was the epitome of silence and serenity.  It was so quiet that he was clearly able to hear a door open on the far end of the mansion, admitting two people who were probably very angry.  A few seconds later, an enraged howl echoed through the previously peaceful mansion.

_"DUO!!!"_

Wufei smirked.

Mere moments later, two sets of feet thundered down the hall.  Unable to resist, the Chinese pilot glanced out the door into the hall, watching bemusedly as Duo tore past at full speed, Quatre right on his heels.  The little blond was wielding a cast iron skillet in one hand and an oversized vibrator in the other, cursing solid in Arabic as he ran.  A heartfelt plea could be heard from the retreating figure.

"I DIDN'T DO IT!"

There was a loud thump as Duo tripped and landed flat on his face.  From his vantage point, Wufei could clearly see that Trowa was the one who was responsible for the nosedive.  Clearly ticked, the two recently returned pilots dragged Duo off to deal with him, ignoring his cries of innocence and pleas for help.

Wufei chuckled, a decidedly evil sound.

"That'll teach you to touch my sword, Maxwell."

*     *     *

The next morning, breakfast proved to be very interesting.  Wufei just sat back and enjoyed the show.  Heero stared blankly, his unblinking expression firmly in place, preventing anyone from knowing what he was thinking.

Trowa and Quatre looked very pleased with themselves.  Duo came in to breakfast a few minutes late, glaring death at their smug expressions.  He was strangely silent as he sat at the table, lowering himself gingerly into the seat, wincing when his weight touched the hardwood chair.  The braided pilot scowled darkly, daring anyone to say anything.

Wufei was so amused watching the three pilots snarling at each other that he didn't notice Heero staring at him.  The fact registered in his mind when the Japanese pilot spoke out in his nasal monotonous voice.

"What were you doing with the tinfoil, Chang?"

Wufei went rigid, all eyes on his stiff form.  Time stood still for what seemed like an eternity, broken abruptly when he lunged from his seat and sprinted from the room, Duo only inches behind him.

Quatre watched them leave, having the decency to look guilty.  Trowa didn't look guilty.  He looked absolutely mortified.

"Poor Duo," the blond lamented, wringing his hands.  "He really didn't do it."

"He's going to kill us," Trowa managed in a strangled voice.

Heero remained silent, hiding his smirk in a cup of coffee.  His normally expressionless eyes sparkled with mirth at the knowledge that he was the only person in the mansion not currently on the receiving end of Duo's wrath.

End.

Seriously.  I mean it this time.  No kidding…  You don't believe me, do you?  Probably with good cause, since in every part so far I've claimed that I wasn't going to continue this.  Um…  at the very least, expect a delay.  Finals and all.  That and I'm currently out of ideas as to what do to the other pilots.

Review!!!


	5. Clothes Make the Man

Clothes Make the Man

By Mieren

Quatre stared into the hall nervously, afraid to leave his room despite the fact that Duo was nowhere within sight.  Actually, that was the problem.  The previous night, the braided lunatic had vanished, grinning from ear to ear as he flounced out of the mansion.  One of Quatre's servants had spotted the American as he returned, large bags in either hand filled with… things.  That's all he knew.  The servant hadn't been able to see more than that there was something in the bags.  That unknown something was already giving Quatre gray hairs.

Trowa pushed him out of the way and peered into the hall, squaring his shoulders and striding purposefully towards the kitchen.  Unlike his little blond lover, he knew that hiding would do him absolutely no good.  If Duo wanted to do something, he would do it come wind or rain or Wufei with a chainsaw.  The Chinese pilot had refused to divulge the reason why he had been chasing the hyper idiot with the chainsaw, but Trowa suspected that it had something to do with Duo's fascination with whittling at that time.

Letting out a worried whimper, Quatre followed the taller pilot down the halls and to the kitchen, determined to get something to eat before making a mad run for his car.  He had an important meeting today with one of the Winner Corporations and he knew that Duo was targeting it… again.  Two months ago, Duo had somehow managed to find a photosensitive dye and slip it into his shampoo unnoticed.  On the drive to the office, the sunlight had activated the dye, turning his hair a brilliant lime green.  He hadn't noticed until he had returned from the meeting and met Wufei in the main lobby, at which point the raven-haired teen had promptly commenced laughing himself sick.  Pictures of him with green hair appeared in newspapers for a week.

Trowa had suffered a different fate the last time Duo's sights had been on him.  Immediately before one of his shows with the lions, something had been slipped into the laundry detergent to make all of his clothes smell exactly like a lioness in heat.  He had returned from the ring clawed, disheveled and squashed but fortunately free of any lion loving.  All of the males in the ring had decided to fight over him and he had simply gotten dragged into the fray.

The banged pilot smirked, banishing the thought of the near disaster in the ring.  Today, he was on the trapeze, so he was safe from any meddling pheromones.  Correctly interpreting his thoughts, Quatre merely shook his head, muttering under his breath.

"He's coming for us… he's coming…"

"Don't worry, Quatre," Trowa said calmly.  "You'll be at a business meeting surrounded by fifty company presidents.  Assuming that your hair doesn't change color or fall out, what can he possibly do?"  Quatre glared at him.

"He'll think of something," Quatre assured him darkly.

"At least Wufei will suffer dearly for this," Trowa said dryly.  A morbid chuckle escaped his lips.  "I almost feel sorry for him."

"I don't."

"I said almost."

"Ah."

*     *     *

Quatre edged into the massive room he had prepared for the meeting.  He had already checked his hair for altered coloration, made sure that all of the food was prepackaged and had ordered the staff to check for a fifty-pound block of exploding Spam.  He had to give Duo credit for the last one.  No one had seen it coming and it had brought a rather tedious meeting to an abrupt end.

The food at assemblies still scared him.  Duo had hit the food several times using laxatives, alcohol, sedatives, stimulants and various dyes.  The meeting where twenty men in suits had gotten so drunk on the alcohol they couldn't taste in their beverages that they were singing karaoke and stripping had been somewhat amusing, but Quatre had not been pleased to learn that his mouth had been dyed black after a meeting a week later.  The conference with the laxatives had been downright disgusting.

After an hour of speaking and comparing notes and corporate strategies, Quatre began to relax.  If nothing had cropped up after an hour, odds were that he was safe.  After another few uneventful minutes, he glanced up curiously when the door to the room opened.  What he saw stunned him to silence and froze him in his seat.

Duo sauntered into the room, his appearance screaming sex.  Black leather pants rode low on his hips, fitting him so tightly that they almost appeared to be painted on.  Simple black slippers covered his feet, making them look smaller and slimmer than they were.  A leather vest hung open from his shoulders, the edge barely reaching the end of his ribcage, completely exposing his chest, stomach and lower back.  A black choker adorned his neck, a silver ring hanging from the front where a leash could be attached.  Kohl lined his eyes and lips, accenting the features and giving him an almost delicate look.  To top off everything, his hair was down, falling in luxurious waves to his knees.

While Quatre stared, mouth open, Duo glided across the room, swaying seductively as he moved closer to his target, fully aware that he had the attention of the entire room and was drawing several appreciative looks.  The Arabian only realized the danger he was in when the longhaired pilot sank to his knees by his chair, laying his head in the blonde's lap and looking up at him with wide innocent eyes.

All the blood in Quatre's body rushed to his face.  He would have bet his entire fortune that even his hair was blushing.  After several failed attempts, he managed to speak in a high, squeaky voice.

"What are you doing?" he demanded hoarsely.

"I came to see you, master," Duo said in a sultry voice, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.  "I got bored in the car, master."

"This isn't funny, Duo," Quatre said stiffly, trying to push the brunette off his lap without success.  Duo was stronger than he looked.

"Is something wrong, master?"

Quatre bristled at the innocent tone, baring his teeth at the kneeling pilot.

"Duo.  Out.  NOW."

Duo drew back but stayed on his knees, head hung low.  He trembled slightly for the benefit of the avidly watching men in the room.

"Have I upset you, master?" he whimpered, not looking up.  "Are you going to beat me again?"

"LEAVE!" Quatre snapped.

"Yes, master," Duo responded meekly.  "Where would you like me to wait, master?"

"In traffic," Quatre snarled.

"Y-yes, master," Duo stammered timidly, turning to leave.  He slipped out the door and was gone before his 'master' could say anything else.

Suddenly, Quatre was aware that all eyes in the room were locked on him.  He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.  This one would take a lot of time to explain.  He wasn't looking forward to tomorrow's newspapers.

*     *     *

Trowa walked confidently into the ring.  There were no lions to attack him.  Catherine had given him a new set of clothes she had ordered for him, so he didn't have to worry about Duo tampering with them.  No pheromones.  No itching powder.  Nothing to get him this time.  New lights had been installed earlier in the morning, so there was no danger of them exploding again.  They were a little brighter than he was used to and the color was slightly different, but it was nothing he couldn't adjust to.  He was safe.

Even better, he had informed the other performers to watch out for a braided teen in a priest's outfit.  No one to that description had been seen.  Too bad they hadn't been watching for leather-clad sex slaves.

Silence met him when he reached the center of the stage and he frowned slightly.  Normally at least a few people would have been applauding by now.  He was somewhat famous at the circus.  Confused, he raised his hands to shamelessly beg for cheering as many of the performers did before an act.  Another few moments of silence followed before tentative clapping, loud whistling and several extraordinarily lewd catcalls greeted him.  He blinked.

Mentally shrugging, he climbed the ladder to reach the first trapeze in a line of five.  During the climb, he had to ignore the laughter and mostly hysterical cheering.  It was extremely disturbing.  In all his time at the circus, he had never heard anything like it.

Deciding to think about it later, he began his routine, swinging and flipping across the swaying trapeze bars.  Slowly, the cheers grew louder and the whistles more numerous.  There was still a large amount of laughter among the crowd.  One of the loudest voices caught his attention.  He knew that laugh.

Finishing his routine, he did an extreme flip through the air, falling the thirty feet to the ground to land lightly on his feet.  His mind wasn't on his movements.  It was solely on finding the source of the voice he knew so well.  His eyes quickly locked onto the front row where a longhaired brunette in leather winked and blew him a kiss.  It took him several seconds to recognize Duo.  The moment he did, however, he began to look for whatever it was the braided menace had done.  He knew that look well.  They all did.

Now that he was looking, he found the prank instantly.

His clothes.  In the lighting, the new material was completely and utterly see-through.  The entire audience had just gotten an eyeful.  He realized suddenly that Duo had swapped out his new clothes and had been responsible for the change in lighting.  Flushing, he snapped his hands down south to cover himself as he sprinted off the ring.  The laughter in the crowd rose to a deafening roar.

In his run for cover, he saw Catherine, redder than even he was and refusing to look at him.  He was thankful for that as he looked frantically around for something to cover himself with.  The ringmaster came to his aid, tossing him a blanket.  The older man's face was strained with his effort to contain his laughter.  Trowa spared a moment to glare at him before retreating to Catherine's trailer to change into his normal clothes and to plot a way to murder a certain braided idiot.

*     *     *

Duo hummed merrily to himself as he changed into his normal attire.

"That will teach them to listen to me when I say 'I didn't do it.'  They should know by now that I don't lie," he chuckled.  "Oh well.  Mess with the best and die like the rest.  Speaking of which, it's Wu-man's turn."

Somewhere far away from the plotting American, a certain Chinese pilot shivered in abject fear.

To Be Continued…

I'm not even going to pretend to be stopping this anymore.  You all should know better by now, and if not, shame on you.  Next stop, Wu-Wu gets his.  ^__^

This story happened after an hour of loading my car with my junk, driving ten hours to get to my apartment, taking another hour and a half to get it up three flights of stairs, then running errands.  It's about 6am right now.  If you see any typos or anything else wrong in here, that's why.  o_O;


	6. Shinigami's Revenge

Shinigami's Revenge

By Mieren

Wufei knew it was coming.  He just didn't know when it would happen.  Or what 'it' was going to be, for that matter.  The only thing he knew was that he was doomed.

Trowa had unknowingly flashed several hundred people before realizing what the braided menace had done.  And the newspapers were still having a field day over the debacle of the Winner sex slave.  Wufei had no illusions about escaping that easily.

The pranks had started several days ago, all of them relatively small in the beginning, gradually growing worse.  Every incident was focused unerringly on the Chinese pilot.  He had woken up one morning to find his hair a brilliant, glow-in-the-dark fuchsia.  That night, he had found his mattress replaced with lime Jello, forcing him to sleep on the floor.  The following morning, he nearly lost several toes after stepping on a mousetrap that had been placed conveniently outside the door to his room.  By the time afternoon rolled around, he made the mistake of relaxing.  He realized his mistake promptly when he found himself epoxied to the toilet seat.  It took two hours of cursing and scrubbing at his ass with solvent before he managed to free himself.  Of course, the solvent hadn't been IN the bathroom.  It had taken nearly an hour of shouting about injustice before Quatre finally took pity on him and brought in the bottle of chemicals.  By the color of the blonde's face, he had been laughing himself sick for some time.

The third day, Wufei nearly went into an epileptic fit.  Thinking that he would escape whatever prank had been planned for the day by working on his Gundam, he went to the hanger.  The first thing he saw was a series of greenhouse lights.  He was confused about the lighting until he looked at Shenlong and his blood began to boil.  The formerly pristine Gundam had been transformed into the world's largest, scariest Chia Pet.  The entire machine was carpeted by healthy green plant life.  Full of grasshoppers.

It took him almost two days of nonstop work to get all of the vegetation off his Gundam.  When he returned to the Winner mansion, he was exhausted, sweaty and pissed.  He stormed to his room, not surprised when everyone avoided him.  Even finding no new pranks waiting for him in his room did little to mollify his temper or his budding migraine.

Grumbling about injustice under his breath, he grabbed the bottle of his migraine pills off of his desk and poured four of the little blue pills into his waiting palm.  He normally only took two at a time, but he felt that the situation merited the increase in dose.  Not bothering with water, he swallowed the pills dry.  He barely remembered to grab a change of clothes and a towel on his way to the bathroom.  He really needed a shower.  After all of the work on cleaning up his garden of a Gundam, he was certain he reeked.

Wufei had been relaxing in the soothing spray of hot water for nearly half an hour when something slowly clicked in his mind.  All the blood drained from his face.

"My pills aren't blue," he whispered, eyes wide.

The moment the words passed his lips, a fiendish giggle sounded right outside the shower stall an instant before the door to the bathroom slammed shut.  There was a grunt of effort and a loud thump.  Another giggle sounded before all noise outside ceased.  Wufei sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"When I get out of here, you're a dead man, Maxwell," he growled to himself.

He turned to step out of the shower when a certain aspect of his body made itself known.  Blood rushed to Wufei's cheeks, the Chinese pilot knowing exactly what the small blue pills had been and that he wouldn't escape their effect for some time.  He briefly considered getting even with the braided idiot before remembering that revenge had been responsible for his current predicament.  Mindful of his own health, he decided not to retaliate, honestly fearful of what the spastic lunatic could come up with if sufficiently provoked.

Knowing that the situation wouldn't get any better no matter how long he waited, he flung open the shower curtain and glared at what he saw waiting for him.  His clothes and towel were missing.  On the counter was a large tube of lube.  In the middle of the room, an inflatable sheep awaited him.

Wufei cursed in Chinese for ten minutes straight.

Frustration set in and he began squirming uncomfortably.  Already knowing the door was locked, and unwilling to go out unclothed in his condition, he decided to wait it out.  His resolution lasted approximately five minutes.

Obscenities rang through the small room a second time as he scanned diligently for a camera, not trusting the American pilot to embarrass him.  After ten minutes of meticulous searching, he decided that the spastic moron hadn't planted a camera in the small room.

Hesitant, he reached for the large tube on the countertop.  He examined it thoroughly to make sure it wasn't some sort of trick.  His final conclusion was that the tube didn't contain any type of glue, itching powder, dye or perfume.  He briefly wondered if it contained hormones of any sort before dismissing the thought.  If the braided pilot wanted to use any sort of chemicals, enzymes or hormones on him, he would have placed them somewhere far less obvious.

He was so tense that he didn't last three strokes before he came.  Tossing his head back and groaning, Wufei waited for the inevitable.  Within a dozen heartbeats, he was at attention again.  With a loud groan, he began again, wondering drearily how long the drug Duo had slipped him would last.

*     *     *

Two hours later, Wufei was eyeing the sheep with wary interest.

Logically, he knew that there was some trap involved in the inflatable creature.  The combination of the drugs he was on and his hormones protested that the blow-up creature was available and that his arms were quickly becoming exhausted.  The pills that Duo had placed in his migraine medication had showed no signs of easing their iron control over his system and he knew that eventually he would have to give in.

Wondering bleakly how it would come back to haunt him, he moved towards the inflated sheep that was waiting not three feet from him.

*     *     *

The following morning found Wufei in his bed with no knowledge of how he had gotten there.  Moaning softly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, wondering silently what had happened the day before.  The answer came to him when his right elbow encountered a hard mass on the bed.  Wufei glanced at the rectangular object, confused for a moment before his groggy mind registered what it was.

A videotape was lying innocently on the pillow beside him, a note attached to the harmless looking tape.  He glared at it for several seconds before ripping off the short letter.

_Hey Wu-pu Chang-a-lang!_

_I'm sure you already know what's on this.  If not, watch and enjoy.  And for your peace of mind, I only made one copy, which I do NOT have in my possession.  Guess who I gave it to!_

_That'll teach you to mess with the almighty Shinigami!_

_Duo_

Wufei groaned, his imagination running wild.  Every thought on who could have received the copy was worse than the last.  Beating his head into the pillow, he had to forcibly remind himself that retaliating would only earn him worse grief.

*     *     *

Though surprised at receiving a package from Wufei, the recipient didn't hesitate before slipping the carefully wrapped tape into the old beaten VCR hidden in the corner of the small office.  Wide blue eyes watched, stunned, as the video proceeded, the slender Chinese pilot on film roughly taking an inflatable plastic barnyard animal from behind.

"I never would have imagined," a stunned voice murmured.  A grin suddenly appeared on the formerly shocked face.  A snicker sounded in the previously silent room.  "Blackmail material.  Wufei is mine now and he can't say a thing about it."

Still smirking and fighting back giggles, Sally Po retrieved the tape and placed it in a secure safe before leaving her office.

To Be Continued…

Okay.  Wufei's been had.  Who's next?  Want to guess?  Want to vote?  THEN REVIEW!!!

And you better appreciate this.  I have a final tomorrow and I took a break in studying to get this out.  Prove you love me and R&R!


	7. Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

By Mieren

Heero was still smirking at the miserable fate his fellow pilots had earned by daring to mess with the self-proclaimed Shinigami.  At the moment, they had a reprieve, the braided pilot being on a simple infiltration mission.  A soft noise that might have been a chuckle escaped his lips as he turned to his laptop to see if there was something he could hack into.

He was safe.  Even if the American did something to him out of sheer boredom, it would be relatively harmless.  After all, he hadn't done anything to tick off the spastic lunatic.  Quatre and Trowa had physically attacked and then humiliated him because Wufei had played a prank on him.  All three pilots had suffered for it, Wufei especially since he had initiated it.  Heero made sure that he had been caught, ratting out his fellow terrorist to keep Duo's attention away from himself.

A stray thought ran menacingly through the Japanese pilot's mind and he shivered.  He had known what the raven-haired pilot had been planning, but he hadn't told Duo until after the fact.  Cobalt eyes widened.  He hadn't said anything.  In his silence, he had drawn the American's attention without even realizing it.

Suddenly, Heero began to wonder if the superstitions about disappearances in the Bermuda Triangle had any truth to them.  He was tempted to personally find out.

*     *     *

Duo fiddled with a video camera, humming softly to himself as he set it up.  The mission had gone without a hitch, the data disks stowed safely in his jacket pocket.  Now, he was preparing to collect a little video footage for his own personal agenda.  Halfway across the room from him was the star of the video, shifting nervously from foot to foot.  Duo looked up and grinned.

"Ready!" he announced gleefully.

*     *     *

Heero returned from a quick destroy-everything-there-including-the-officers-underwear mission to find that Duo had returned from his infiltration mission.  He sighed softly in relief when he saw that the braided pilot was completely uninterested in him, surrounded by a few hundred candy wrappers as he read manga.  The Japanese teen stared at him suspiciously before opening his laptop and starting his mission report.  He paused for a moment to speak to the chocolate-guzzling American.

"Where is the data disk?"

"Here," Duo answered, tossing it carelessly across the room.  Heero snatched it out of the air, scowling at the other pilot's mishandling of important information.  For the sake of his health, he didn't comment on it.

After working tirelessly on his report for an hour, cursing silently when he had to reference something off of the encoded disk Duo had provided, he finally couldn't take it anymore.  The braided pilot was making all sorts of inane noise!

Crunch.  Crunch.  Slurp.  Crackle.  Lick-lick-lick.  Crinkle.  Giggle.  Shuffle-shuffle.  Roll-kick-snort.  Chomp.  Slurp.  Crackle-crackle.  Sniffle-snort.  Crunch.

"Be quiet," Heero finally growled over his shoulder, scowling.  Duo glanced up at him, half of a chocolate bar hanging from his mouth.  He grinned around it.

"Candy wrappers make noise, Hee-chan," he said merrily.  "No way around it if you want a good snack."  Heero stared at the piles of wrappers skeptically.

"It's not healthy."

"Well, duh," Duo retorted.  Heero blinked at him in confusion.

"Then why are you eating it?"

Duo stared at him, utterly stupefied.  "You're kidding, right?"

"No."

"It tastes good!" Duo said, sounding like he had just had to explain that water was wet.  He blinked violet eyes in confusion.  "Haven't you ever had candy?"

"No.  It is not necessary for a system to function."

Duo sighed.  "Pull the stick out of yon ass," he said tiredly.  When Heero glared at him, he raised his hands in a defeated gesture.  "I don't know what your problem is with it, though.  If you think about it, it's mostly sugar.  It is, after all, the basic molecular unit carried by the bloodstream to the body for energy."

Heero froze, shocked that Duo knew even the rudimentary facts of biochemistry.  Grunting, he reminded himself that despite how irritating and immature he acted, Duo was a Gundam pilot.  Choosing to ignore the braided idiot, he responded in his usual fashion.

"Hn."

"You should really try something, you know," Duo chuckled.  "You might like it."

"Hn."

"I bet you twenty bucks that you like it!" Duo goaded.

"It's not even your money," Heero pointed out.  "You just stole it from an Oz account."

Duo frowned.  "Fine.  How about this?  If you don't like it, I'll shut up."

Heero blinked, fingers stopping their incessant typing.  He swiveled in his chair to regard the grinning lunatic sitting across from him.  His suspicions flared, but he couldn't resist the lure.

"Why are you so insistent?" he demanded.

"Because I want to see the almighty Perfect Soldier proven wrong," Duo answered, smirking.

Heero's eyes narrowed.  "For how long?"

"Until nightfall," he promised.  "I'll even leave to make sure of it.  Hell, I'll even leave if I'm right and you like it."

Heero paused, pondering the win-win situation.  Finding nothing dangerous about it, he nodded his acquiescence.  Duo grinned wider and began poking through his stash of tooth-rotting treats, finally snagging a sucker and lobbing it across the room.  Eyeing the hard candy like it was a grenade, Heero caught the small glob of sugar on a stick.  One eyebrow arched.

"A Tootsie Pop?"

"How many licks and all, you know?" Duo retorted.  Heero grunted.

"What flavor is this?"

"Cherry," Duo said without hesitation.

Sighing, Heero pulled on the wrapper, frowning slightly when he found it to be stuck to the candy, as though the sucker had gotten too moist.  Blaming humidity, he ripped off the paper and calmly inspected the red ball of glucose before sighing and inserting the sphere into his mouth.  He almost pulled it out immediately just to tell Duo he was wrong, but he found that the flavor wasn't entirely unpleasant.  Tucking the sweet into his cheek, he glared at the American.

"I've tried it.  Leave," he said, his words only slightly slurred from the hindrance of the mass sitting in his mouth.

"I knew you'd like it," Duo gloated.  Heero glared.

Stretching, the American pilot rose to his feet and stretched, several vertebrae cracking loudly as he regained his feet for the first time in several hours.  Dusting the crumbs off of his shirt, and there were a lot of them, he paused.  His fingers strayed to a pocket they had passed and he pulled out a disk, staring at it for a moment before shrugging.  He turned to Heero and held it out.

"Uh, here.  I guess you need this one too," he said, grinning sheepishly.  Heero sighed and grabbed the proffered disk.

"Leave," he repeated.  Duo saluted and sauntered out the door.

Sucking absently on the candy, Heero inserted the disk into his computer, hacking through the codes in a matter of a few seconds.  A single video file showed up on the disk.  He opened it.

Relena appeared onscreen, peeking at the camera hesitantly, clearly embarrassed.  She murmured something that sounded suspiciously like 'Happy birthday, Heero," before quickly looking away again.  Slowly, she began shedding her garments until she was completely nude, reclining on the floor.  She reached just out of the camera's focus to close her hand around a single item, bringing it back into view with her nude form.  It was a Tootsie Pop.

The lithe blond pulled the wrapper off of the sucker and tentatively licked the ruby sphere with the barest tip of her tongue.  Still nervous, she trailed the sticky sweet down her body, slipping it between her legs and pushing it into…

Heero gagged and spat the sucker onto the laptop.  His face fought between furious crimson and mortified, nauseous white.  He settled on leaping out of his chair to exterminate the source of his constant, brain and gut twisting, irritation.

"DUO!!!  OMAE O KOROSU!!!"

Mad laughter floated back to his ears, barely heard over the stampede of footsteps as a certain braided idiot fled for his life.

To Be Continued… Maybe…

What do you think?  R&R!

For now, I need reviews on this.  I am seriously running out of ideas of perverted things for them to do to each other.  Comments?  Ideas?  R&R!!!


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